Hold Onto Me
by bluester007
Summary: Perico one-shot. Sort of angsty. Prompt: the five senses. Cover image property of Viria.


**A quick Percico one-shot to get over my writers block that was just becoming an excuse. I'm thinking of making a sequel - possibly - but no promises x**

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When I opened my door, he was there, head hung low, his thin figure hidden beneath his long, black jacket. I didn't know what to think or how to feel, I just knew that I couldn't stop looking. Not when he lifted his chin, the hall light casting rigid shadows along his angular jaw and sharp cheekbones. Not when he bit his lip, twisting the skull ring on his finger – and I swear to the gods my stomach couldn't ever be wound tighter than it was in that moment. Not when his eyes, deep and dark and haunted, met mine, unwaveringly, like he was determined not to look away, not to show an ounce of the nerves in his hunched shoulders and clenched fists.

"Hi," he said quietly, almost imperceptibly.

"Hi."

I froze for a moment, unable to drag my eyes away. I would've stared at him for hours if he hadn't spoken.

"I know I shouldn't be here, but I couldn't stand it, Percy. I…" he sighed, and his gaze dropped to his feet. "This was stupid. I should just go."

"No!" I said, a little to loud, a little too fast. I sounded desperate, needy, weak. His eyes shot back up, a question behind them. "Don't leave," I whispered. "Please."

I heard his breath hitch in his chest, then the gentle whistle of his exhale, watched his chest rise and fall. He bit his lip again, and my heart hammered painfully against my ribs.

"Okay," he breathed finally. "Okay."

And then he was pushing me back, his sure hands on my chest. He closed the door behind us, pushed me further and further into the house, leading the way, keeping eye contact the whole time.

"Please," I said again, this time louder, and a second later his lips were on mine. In that moment, everything felt right. Everything felt _whole_. So I pulled him closer, hugged him to my chest, dug my fingers into his back. I kissed him hard, forcefully, fiercely, and when he pushed, I pushed back. His lips were chapped and dry, his fingers rough against my cheek. He was cold, even through his coat, and he was all angles and points and edges softened by layers of clothing. His tongue tasted bitter, like stale beer and tequila, and I craved more of it, more of him.

I pulled him a few paces backwards and dragged him down onto the bed. He was lighter than he had been before, seemingly weightless, when he fell on top of me, but I didn't stop to think about this. I started unbuttoning his jacket, and he sat up to help, tossing it aside with his shirt. I ran my hands across his chest, over the familiar bumps and grooves and lines, down his back, along his shoulder blades, everywhere I could reach. I couldn't stop touching him, feeling the cold of his stomach, the softness of his cheeks, the curves and dips of his neck and hips. I wanted all of him, every single inch.

We moved together like we had done so many times before, our breaths the same heavy, strained puffs, our hearts the same loud jolts. I could feel him, all of him, in every way possible, and it hurt to have so much of someone but still want more. It ached, and it was like no pain I'd ever experienced before. It was the weight of the sky and a thousand more, but I didn't want it to ever stop.

Later, I laid with his arms around my waist, his legs lost with mine, his fingers drawing small circles on my lower back, where my Achilles Spot had once been. I ran a thumb along his cheekbones, pushed the hair off his face, felt the warmth where there was usually ice. I breathed in, long and heavy, and I could smell him, smell the sweat and dirt and something distinctly _Nico_. I buried my nose in his neck, pressed a kiss to his Adams apple. I could feel his lips on my hair, the smile on his mouth, the rhythmic beat of his heart. I wanted to stay there forever, to never leave the familiarity of his arms. Naked, sticky with sweat, the air blistering hot, the world felt like it had stopped moving, like everything was at a standstill. I forgot about the outside world, forgot about what waited on the other side of my apartment door. Forgot about my responsibilities, my commitments, everything that was supposed to matter to me, that was supposed to take priority. But I didn't want there to _be_ an outside. I didn't want there to be anything beyond the walls of my bedroom. I didn't want to go back to how things were when Nico wasn't beside me.

We fell asleep at one point, and I'm not sure who went first. It might've been me, but I couldn't know for sure. When I woke up, we hadn't moved. He was still there, holding onto me, his face in my hair. I allowed myself a few minutes, one brief moment of pure bliss. Then I felt him stir, heard the grumble in his throat, the endearing groan he made when reality pulled him from his peaceful sleep. I gently pulled back, sighing as I did so, and he opened his eyes and gave me a small, sad smile.

"Morning," he whispered.

I kissed him shortly, a desperate, lingering kiss, clinging to the moment before reality took it away.

"Morning."


End file.
